Bite the Billionaire Vampire

I’d never smelled money before, but the Voss Corp boardroom reeked of it: leather, fear, and something metallic that crawled up my nose and clung. Twenty suits stared at me like I was the quarterly loss. I clutched my nursing-intern folder like a life raft. Cassian Voss sat at the head, black suit cut so sharp it could slice skin. He hadn’t looked at me once. The chairman, Hargrove, cleared his throat. “IPO in ninety days. Investors want roots, Cassian. Or we pull the plug.” Cassian’s voice was winter. “They’ll get them.” A tablet slid across the mahogany. Headline: ETERNAL BACHELOR OR ETERNAL LIABILITY? Hargrove’s eyes flicked to me. “Human wife. Clean. Disposable. Perfect optics.” My stomach flipped. Disposable. Cassian stood. Walked straight to me. Pulled a platinum ring from his pocket—no diamond, just cold metal. “Marry me.” Not a question. I laughed, raw and ugly. “You’re insane.” “Two million. Citizenship. One year.” His gaze pinned me. “Then you vanish.” My mother’s hospital bills flashed: $187,432. Deportation notice in my purse. I stared at the ring. “No sex.” His mouth twitched. “Fine.” Hargrove clapped. “Wedding tomorrow. PR leak by Monday.” I slid the ring on. It bit like frost. Penthouse. 2:14 a.m. I stood barefoot in silk that wasn’t mine, ring heavy as a handcuff. Cassian poured crimson into a crystal glass. Not wine. “Why me?” I asked. He didn’t turn. “No past. No family. No questions.” “Disposable.” The word tasted like rust. He faced me. “Smart.” I stepped closer, heat crawling up my spine. “I’m not your doll.” “Tonight you are.” He set the glass down. “Board at dawn. Smile. Sign. Disappear after the IPO.” I snatched the bottle. Drank deep. Iron. Copper. Him. His eyes flashed red. I froze. “What the f**k was that?” “Lighting.” Liar. I backed up. “I want out.” “Too late.” He closed the gap, breath brushing my throat. “Leave, and ICE drags you by sunrise.” My pulse hammered so loud I swear he heard it. He leaned in. “One year, Elara. Then you’re free.” I shoved him. “Touch me and I’ll carve your balls off with a letter opener.” He smiled. Fangs. Gone in a blink. Chapel. Next morning. White dress too tight. No guests. “I do,” he said. “I do,” I lied. His kiss tasted like ice and secrets. 48 hours later. Bathroom. 3:07 a.m. I stared at the stick. Two lines. Then—gold. I dropped it. Grabbed another. Same. No. No. No. We never f****d. No s*x clause. But wedding night—after his cold lips—I’d woken sore. A pinprick on my thigh. His whisper in the dark: “Just a drop of my blood. Enough to bind. You’ll never know.” I’d thought it was a nightmare. Now the test glowed. His blood in my veins. His child in my womb. No bump. Just a flutter. I pressed my palm to my stomach. Nothing. But the gold didn’t lie. Elevator. Alone. Doors shut. Blackout. Red emergency lights. Cassian’s reflection: fangs out. He turned. Eyes burning. “Elara…” I slammed against the wall. “You poisoned me.” “I had to.” “Had to what?” “Secure the bloodline.” His hand brushed my stomach. Gentle. I slapped it away. “Don’t.” Elevator lurched. Stuck. “You’re carrying the daywalker.” I yanked the emergency axe. “Touch me again and I’ll take your f*****g head.” Lights flickered. A hidden panel hissed open behind him. A woman stepped out—same cheekbones, same fangs. “Hello, little breeder. I’m Livia. And I ordered the blood.” She dangled a vial of crimson—same shade as his drink. “You’re not the first. But you’ll be the last.” The elevator dropped. Cassian lunged—not to bite. To shield me. The axe clattered. The vial shattered on the floor. Gold and crimson swirled like sunrise and sin.